A Way Out
by SheSoldHerSoulToSwimming
Summary: Peeta's POV. A one shot about what a handful of little berries can do to a guy. Entry for The Rebels secret fic exchange. Happy holidays!


**Hello everyone. This is my present, for this is sort of like a secret Santa thing but for FF. You can find activities like these on the forum "The Rebels". On the forum it told you to write about something that other person has interests in. So here goes one Team Peeta story that I've been meaning to do for some time now. **

Silence. That's what I'm immersed in. It's all silence. It's all I see, it's all I hear, it's all I feel.

Except for her.

My head feels like it's about to float away from all that blood loss. Maybe that's good. Maybe then Katniss could win. She's just as confused as I am. Where's Claudius's voice coming out from the shadows? Where's the trumpets? Where's the fireworks? Most importantly, where's the hovercraft?

The trumpets blare and I'm satisfied. But I shouldn't have spoken too soon. "Congratulations to our final two tributes. After more careful checking in the rulebook, there can only be one winner. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor." I mentally growl at Claudius. I really thought we were in the clear, but, no, this just works out fine. There insistent that we become pieces in their games, the only way we can do that is to kill one another.

I reach for my knife to cut the tourniquet. I notice Katniss's grip on her bow has stiffened. "It's okay. You deserve to be the victor." I say. I put my knife back and end up just pulling the tourniquet loose. Katniss rushes to fix it. I shoo her away. She reaches into her pouch and fear rushes through me. "No, I won't let you." I stop her hand. "No, see," she gives me a handful of the ripened berries. I realize what she's trying to do, she's recreating Foxface's accident, just times two. We kneel down next to the river and promptly hold out the berries. "1…" Katniss starts… "2…" I join, "3!" I fling the berries up to my mouth and I can't even taste them until Claudius practically yells "Stop, stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victors of the 74th Hunger Games!"

But he was wrong. There's only one victor now. Katniss shudders on the hard dirt, "Goodbye." She whispers.

When I was younger, I had a pet guinea pig. I loved that guinea pig. One day that guinea pig lay on the floor of his cage. And my big brother tells me he's dead. I scrunch my eyebrows together and say, "No, he's not dead." And walk out of the room. My brother just shrugs and disposes of the dead animal. For days after that I ask my father, "Do you know where my guinea pig is?" and after a while my brother's got tired of telling me it's dead.

That's what I feel. That disbelief that she's gone is practically courses through my veins. I don't know what to do. I've spit out my berries. But now I wish I hadn't I wish that this plan would've gone right. I wish I would be shuttering on the ground next to her. But it seems too late. The hovercraft above me has already extended its ladder. I can't do that. I can't just go home and say I'm the victor. Not after what all Katniss has done for me. The hovercraft can wait. I have got to go find some of those berries. But no… that'll never work. They got a tracker in me. Wait. I think I can get it out. I take my knife and cringe as the gooey blood trickles down my elbow. I take a bandage from the first aid kit in Katniss' bag, there, all clean. I was wrong. I'll never be healed.

I form a plan in my sad, crying mind. I skip off to the woods with Katniss' muddy backpack hooked around my shoulder.

This stunt will surely get me killed, but there's really no other clear reason I'm doing this. These games are still on, they always have been. No wonder Haymitch's worst nightmare is spending a game sober. I'm not planning to survive this, of course, no victor ever has. There's just one difference, I'm still in the arena. She's gone; I might as well be too. No message could be any clearer. To feed myself the poison berries would be giving up. I will not rest, until I die. I promised myself I would not win.

It seemed that she didn't love me. I knew she was coming around, I know an epiphany when I see one. Now she would never get that chance, now I could never get a chance.

Quite selfish, really. I just want Katniss so much. I know that deep in my heart I can still be with her, it'll just take quite some effort and self-sacrifice. My mind is fighting itself; the instinct to survive that has grown from the past days is fighting my classic love for her.

The first night was pure torture. The boxing match going on in my head kept me up all night. Not like I was going to sleep anyway. Around dawn, the trumpets blare, and I open my eyes attentively.

"Peeta," a vision was projected in the sky. This must be the first time they used the projectors for anything but the nightly death toll. Instead of Claudius on the projector it's Ceaser. I guess that they thought that I would listen better to my best friend Ceaser. "Peeta," he repeats, "Peeta, I know she's gone, all of Panem is grieving alongside you. If you just go to the cornucopia and let the hovercraft pick you up the capitol people can help you."

I shiver at his words, they don't know where I am, and at least that's good. I know how they plan to make me feel better. And if that's what it takes, I will live in misery for the rest of my life. I've seen Finnick and Johanna, I don't need that. There was only one chance at love for me, and she's killed herself with a handful of poisonous berries. "Peeta, we can't send anybody in to help you, rules are rules, if you could just do us the favor of coming back to Panem, and we can help you again. You can't get Katniss back." The projection goes dead, and I know that they are wrong. I can still get her back. For once, they're going to have to live without their precious victor to salivate over.

I curl myself into Katniss' sleeping bag and absorb the scent of her. I have to move. Oh great, now I'm thinking like Katniss, I'm never going to get her out of my head, am I. I roll up the sleeping bag, and set off to who knows where. Later in the day I get another projection. It was from Haymitch. Haymitch. Who's frazzled hair and off-toned voice made me burn inside.

"Listen kid," Haymitch warbled, without need of further introduction, "Everyone in the country is dying for a  
>victor, and we intend to get one, one way or another. I know it's hard, but living your life in the arena, although most victors do that about 60 percent of their life, is not the answer. It will not help you cope. I miss her too, but you can't be someone like this. Once you become victor, and you will become victor, that will be your life." He begrudgingly adds something about that that's how we owe the Capitol. "Son, listen up, this will not help you cope. What you're doing, it's hurting more than helping."<p>

I didn't want to cope. I didn't want to forget. I wanted to spend every minute of my life with her. This wasn't going to end the way they wanted it to. For once I'm going to quit compromising with the Capital.

It was too much. Too much to have the people I loved and trusted telling me to give up. I jump to my feet. I head to the one place that would be nice to die.

Once I reach the cave my fingers are freezing. I'm relatively relaxed. Without the tracker in me the arena thinks that there's no one here, thus they can't blow me up, activate cameras, or send mutts. I am peaceful. Peaceful because I know that I will soon be with the one I love.

In the night I hear the anthem and I quietly (well, as quiet as I can) step outside. And what I see in the sky near rips me apart.

Prim.

Her Prim.

"Peeta." She says softly, "Peeta I miss her too. In all truth I wish I was standing there right next to you. But I'm not. And neither is she. Peeta, please, I need you to come home. We need you to come home. In this time of loneliness, it's best to be together." I know what she means. Her blessing, she's not talking about me and District Twelve. She's letting me go. Normally I would think that it didn't matter what she thought. But it does, we share a bond, a helpless wish for Katniss to stay alive. Her thoughts are identical to mine. She understands that I need to leave, she wants to leave too. She wants me to take the opportunity. She understands that there is no painless way out of this.

I soundlessly make it to the brush the surrounds the Cornacopia. I step out into the clearing. Nightlock in my palm. A hovercraft appears immediately, but before it can catch me I raise my palm and say, "She understands, it's too bad the world cannot." I fling the berries to my lips, swallow hard, and think my last thought before I join Katniss forever.

_I am now a victor. _

**I do not own the Hunger Games, Romeo and Juliet or that quote from a Michael Jackson song "No message coulda been any clearer" from "Man in the Mirror".**

**I hope you all liked it. This story was a tribute to Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet". I've made it clear that it's not one of my favorite works of Shakespeare  
>but I think that in the process of writing this I've finally begun to understand Romeo. Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, have a great Kwanza, and enjoy Eed, (did I spell that right) or any other winter holiday, and a happy new year. <strong>

**Sincerely,**

**BTheBookFreak. 3 **


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